This is What My Book Sounds Like

Andy Biersack of Black Veil Brides

I recently had one of those rare moments when I listen to an album and go, Dude, your sounds just told my story.

It’s a pretty awesome experience.

I don’t listen to music while writing, but I like to have a soundtrack to my story. It sets the mood for what I’ll be writing, even if the lyrics have nothing to do with the story I’m telling.

Well, the other day I was listening to the Black Veil Brides’ Wretched and Divine album and—BOOM. It hit me that the songs perfectly capture the mood of a book I have brewing in my brain. The determination of “Nobody’s Hero.” The aching sadness of “Lost it All.”  The strength and acceptance in “In the End.”

(On a side note, the entire album is really great. You know, even if the music doesn’t tell the story you’re writing.)

And because it’s the only song on the album with a video on YouTube and because copyright laws prevent it from playing on my blog, I’ll send you off to watch “In the End” by Black Veil Brides.

What music is inspiring your writing right now?

In Which I Answer Questions You Didn't Ask

I don’t talk about my WIP too often, and when I do I don’t go into many specifics. And yet I love when other writers do that. So I’m glad the lovely Caroline Richmond tagged me with this fun survey.

So let’s get to it:

What is the working title of your book?

Alive

What genre does your book fall under?

It’s a young adult science fiction novel.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Curse you, questionnaire! I’m terrible at this, and since mine is a work in progress I haven’t given this a ton of thought. But here it goes: When she discovers Eli’s healing ability, Alex plans to bring her sister back to life but never expects to uncover lies about her childhood.

Yeah. Um, moving on...

Where did the idea come from for the book?

I’ve mentioned before that I have a rare chronic pain condition called erythromelalgia, which causes my feet to burn. Like, literally. Anyhow, one day when I was in excruciating pain, The Man said he wished there was something he could do. I joked that he’d be my favorite person in the world if with a touch he could heal me. That was the original spark.

Of course, I was in such pain that I would have taken any side effect of being healed. Which is why I told him that I’d still let him heal me even if he first had to kill me. Anyhow, that’s how I imagined the sci-fi element. Even now, as I (hopefully) near the end of revisions, that’s a huge part of the book: Eli can heal, but the first touch kills.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I’d been thinking of Alive for months, so when I finally opened the blank Word document it sort of poured out. I can’t remember exactly, but I believe it took me a few weeks to write the first draft.

I haven’t been so quick with the revisions. Which is to say, the revisions are taking me forever and a millennia.

May we see an intro?

How about the first three lines, and only because you asked so very nicely:

The alcohol was always cold. Henry swabbed my arm, raising goosebumps with each swipe. My teeth chattered.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I’m having a hard time with this one because one Eli has a shaved head. And while it’s very easy for any actor to shave his head, not many do. (I know this because I’ve searched high and low for a decent photo representation of him.)

Going only off looks and not acting ability (because, really, anyone can dye their hair red or shave theirs off), here’s who I see for my characters:

Alex, the protagonist, has red hair and a scar split that her chest in half, which I clearly cannot illustrate with real, live actresses who are typically unblemished. Here’s why I chose Lily Cole: The only other redheaded teen actress I can think of is Lily Collins, and I see Alex as having more delicate features. I have no idea if Lily Cole is a decent actress, but I do know she’s acted, which makes her fair game for this question.

Eli, the love interest, has a shaved head and a beauty mark above his lips. If someone finds a teen actor with both of those things, you get a virtual high-five. Mostly I see Eli as what I imagine a teen Wentworth Miller would look like.

Will, the best friend, has an all-American look. I cannot think of an actor who looks more squeaky clean than Logan Lerman. CANNOT!

Violet, the new friend, has thick black hair, porcelain skin, and freckles over her nose. I pictured Violet as gorgeous Korean singer/actress Sulli but with freckles à la Lucy Lui.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I haven’t given a ton of thought to this—it’s cataloged under “query stuffs” in my brain—but I’d say the sci-fi is much like The Adoration of Jenna Fox: it’s a similar world to our own but there’s medical advances that make it sci-fi.   

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I’m hoping it will be represented by an agency and then traditionally published, but I haven’t queried agents with it yet, so that remains to be seen.

I really like learning more about writers’ projects, so I’ll be greedy and tag all of you. And because I’m also impatient, I’ll ask you something here:

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

RTW: The Story Love List

Road Trip Wednesday is a blog carnival, where YA Highway’s contributors and readers post a weekly writing- or reading-related question and answer it on our own blogs. You can hop from destination to destination and get everybody’s take on the topic.

This week’s prompt was: Inspired by Stephanie Perkins’ poston Natalie Whipple’s blog, what is your novel’s “Love List”?

According to The Great and Powerful Ms. Perkins, here’s the function of a love list:

Whenever I begin a new project, I also begin a list called “What I Love About This Story.” I start by writing down those first ideas that sparked the fires of my mind, and then I add more ideas to it as I discover them during my push through early drafts.

With that in mind, here are a few things I love about my story:

A boy with an accent

Grief

Air that smells like chocolate

Memory loss

Buzzed hair

Overcoming disability

Candy necklace

Electroshock therapy

Childhood friends

Cliffs overlooking a lake

Guilt

Red plastic glasses

Creepy hospital

Sacrifice

Stargazing

And because I basically have a love list in my mind, where I store parts of scenes, I thought it’d be fun to give you love lists from two different perspectives, too. So the first is what I love about my story in songs that capture a moment, a scene, a chapter, or the whole book. I’ve added keywords from above if they pertain to this musical love list.

Overcoming disability, memory loss:

Grief, guilt:

Creepy hospital:

Creepy hospital, sacrifice:

The second is a visual love list, with any word tags from above.

A boy with an accent, buzzed hair:

Stargazing, cliffs overlooking a lake

Creepy hospital

What’s on your love list?

RTW: Being Inspired Creatively

Road Trip Wednesday is a blog carnival, where YA Highway’s contributors and readers post a weekly writing- or reading-related question and answer it on our own blogs. You can hop from destination to destination and get everybody’s take on the topic.

This week’s prompt was: When you need creative inspiration, where do you go?

I’m a firm believer that that’s possibility for inspiration all around us, and we don’t necessarily have to be looking for it to find it. But sometimes I’m in a creativity drought, so frustrated I want to scream, A PLAGUE ON ALL OF YOUR HOUSES! (Which doesn’t really make sense but has this dramatic effect I’m always looking for when my creativity has been zapped.)

In those situations, there are a few places I turn for creative inspiration:

Music. Any time I’m lost in my WIP, my first reaction is this: Find novel playlist. Insert earbuds. Close eyes. Daydream. The way I write is a lot like transcribing the movie I see in my mind, so when I’m zapped for creativity I shut my eyes and watch the movie play out to the soundtrack I’ve made. Sometimes I’ll play the same song over and over again to dream up different ways a scene or group of scenes can turn out. I love this method of brainstorming because it’s basically the easiest way you can come up with really good ideas. And I’m all about lazy approaches that yield big results.

Reading. Everything about reading inspires me—the stories, the writing, a throwaway pieces of dialogue. There’s so much potential for inspiration because books transport us to another world. And believe me, I’d have a boatload of ideas if I suddenly ended up in Wonderland or Oz or the Shire. But first, of course, I’d seriously consider my sanity.

Twitter, et al. A testament to my disturbed mind: I get a lot of inspiration from hearing about other author’s successes. It’s not so much that I’ll learn of someone’s giant book deal and think, “Eureka! I know just how to fix that plot hole!” (And not just because I’ve never in my life said Eureka! when I’ve discovered something.) No, it’s more that if I’m in a slump where I need something to motivate me creatively, hearing about other authors’ getting agents or book deals or the like inspires me to open the document and keep writing.

Conspiracy theory blogs. A while ago I watched an episode of Jesse Ventura’s Conspiracy Theory and took notes on about five new story ideas—one of which has been eating away at my mind for the past few months and competing with another shiny new idea. If you write sci-fi like I do (or dystopian), conspiracy theorists are a goldmine of great ideas.

And that’s where my brilliance comes from. How about you? What sparks your creativity?

Your Story: The Sand Bleeds My Name

Once upon a time I showed you guys the photo above, gave you a first line, and asked that you come up with a story for this girl.

…and then I got swamped and never posted the story. Let’s still be friends, okay? So, proving the power of a single image to get our creative brainwaves going, here’s the beginnings of the story we created.

Anyone looking for that creative spark, feel free to run with this. Take pieces to create your own story or use the image for inspiration. I feel like this should be a bumper sticker instead of a cheesy line on my blog, but it’s true: You are your own muse. Also, my kid beat up your honor’s student.

Ahem. The story, which I’ve titled The Sand Bleeds My Name:

My father forced me to run away, leave the beach, and never look back. My mother’s screams echoed in my ears, pounded away at my senses as I streaked through the scorching sand. A part of me wanted to turn around, to see the horror that was unfolding back down at the waters edge, but the adrenaline coursing through my body propelled me forward.

To you.

You with your calloused hands but sweet smile. You with your quiet mannerisms but thunderous touch. You with all your lies.

I should have known better than to believe the things that came out of your mouth, and yet I always did. Because that first night when the sun went down, when it dipped so low that the sea swallowed it whole and the beach succumbed to the frigid breath of evening, you gave me a fur coat.

As I was walking down the road, tears in my eyes. I came upon a hidden pathway. As I walked down the path, I saw the scenery changing. Suddenly I was surrounded by unicorns and gigantic creatures I thought had gone extinct millions of years ago.

Three rapid blinks, and the image is gone. I'm still alone, stranded with nothing but my fur coat and the memory of my father’s face as I ran. There are no unicorns. No creatures. No you. I ran away, to you, and nothing.

It seemed I had been running to nothing my entire life. It pulled me, no, dragged me to it and whether I wanted to or not I had to follow. Defeated, I collapsed into the sand. I called out for you, or for Byron, the unicorn, but my cries echoed across the beach and remained unanswered.

Only then, palms against the sand, did I realize it wasn’t my heartbeat, nor the pounding ocean. It was the thunder of a thousand feet, running in step. I should have known my father wouldn’t let me leave at my leisure. Daughters can’t be left to wander. They must be driven, relentlessly, into the ground.

And yet, strangely, I know I’ll get away. The blood on the sand will drive me on until there is no strength in me to run, and then further still. I cannot outrun the memory of that dreadful sight but, at least, I can outrun the demons they send for me now.

Slipping out of my fur coat I throw it up, up, high into a tree. Let the hounds bay for that. Swinging into the branches I fly.